


From Egypt to England

by HeatherGiesbrecht



Category: Crimson Peak (2015), The Mummy (1999)
Genre: Attempted Murder, F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Language, Mummies, Murder, Mystery, POV Alternating, Sexual Content, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-24
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-27 17:33:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5057584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeatherGiesbrecht/pseuds/HeatherGiesbrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Defeating Imhotep, okay, good, very good. Little cousin Edith suddenly getting married and moving to England, confusing, very confusing. This required an explanation or Sir Whatshisname was getting punched in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cousin

Rick squinted as he looked down at Uncle Carter and repeated, "Edith...got married ? She never wanted to marry, unless it was that Alan guy. So, uh, what happened ?"

The auburn-haired and bearded man nodded, "Yes, she got married to Sir Thomas Sharpe, Baronet of Harding Poole. Swept off her feet, I think, and along with your aunt's death, I think that accent of his helped it along well."

Evey turned to him, "I know where that is, it's up in Cumberland we could go visit and congratulate them. Funny, isn't it ? While you're away you find me in Egypt and while she stayed here an Englishman found Edith in America."

"I don't like this, Evey. I mean, for all we know, Sir Whatshisname could be trying to raise a mummy too. He better have a good explanation or he's going to get a punch in the face."

Just behind him, Jonathan muttered, "I don't think you wanna do that Rick."

Slowly, he turned to glance at his soon to be brother-in-law, "And just why is that Jonathan ?"

Jonathan's finger twitched and he whispered, "Well, what I mean is, there's some nasty rumours about those Sharpe siblings going around. Like, I heard from a Welshman who heard it from a York man that they practice incest. It could just be a rumour because they're orphans and the Lady Lucille doesn't go out much and when she does she's always with her brother. There's the fact too that every man who's ever wanted to marry his sister the Baronet has sent away for being unworthy."

He spun on his heel to put a hand on Jonathan's shoulder, "C'mon, Jonathan, they can't be that bad compared to Imhotep. I mean, their only human, rumoured to be incestuous sure, but they are human. I say we go to this Cambaland and find out what's what."

Evey and Jonathan both chorused, "Cumberland like cucumber."

"Yeah, that, let's go. If Edith's in something bad we'll bring her back, Uncle Carter, don't you worry."

It was about two weeks later as he drove up to the gates of the ancient blue-brick mansion that he asked, "What is it with you English and naming everything ? I mean this place is called Crimson Peak and since that's not enough the house has a name too ? Allerdale Hall, really ? Why the heck is it called that when Allerdale is somewhere else entirely ?"

While he got out to open the gates, Evey replied, "It's what we do Rick, we name things. Besides, before you go on about Crimson Peak being something about murder it's called that because of all the clay under the ground."

Yeah, that sure reassured him, it only made it easier for the Sharpes to hide any bodies they had laying about. The mansion had at least three storeys to it, on the left side there were two spires rising into the cloudy sky, the rest of the roofs were flat or conical for the towers. A few more minutes later, he'd driven up to the split staircase that led to the entrance. When they approached the door there was a very odd knocker on it, he couldn't tell what it was it'd been too eroded, but there was a ruby set in it.  

Almost like she'd been waiting for them, a dark-haired, dour-looking woman opened the door. "I am Lady Lucille Sharpe, what business have you in Allerdale Hall ?"

Before he could speak Evey did, "I hope you can pardon us for not writing, mi'lady, but I'm Evey Carnahan, this is my brother, Jonathan, and this is my fiance, Rick O'Connell. Rick is Edith's cousin and we wanted our congratulatory visit to be a surprise."

If anything the Lady's face became even more dour and annoyed, "Come in, you will sit in the parlour until I retrieve her, Thomas, and tea."

The entrance hall was dominated by a thick, squarish, dark-walnut staircase, set about ten feet back was a giant, white marble fireplace and five feet away was the door to the cobalt plastered parlour. As he and Evey sat down on the grey cushioned chesterfield, he muttered, "You can just tell she's the life of the party. You could roast people in that fireplace."

Evey glared at him, "Enough, Rick. How many times do I have to tell you that the Sharpes are not murderers ?"

Jonathan had wandered over to examine a silver candelabrum that stood by a far window. "Hmm, early 16th century I'd say. Evey, do you think they'd be willing to sell this ?"

"I don't think so Jonathan since it's been in their family for so long."

Edith suddenly rushed into the room her waist-length blond hair fluttering as she hugged him. "Oh, Rick it's so good to see you again. I suppose that you didn't receive the letter I sent to Egypt a few months ago about my and Thomas's getting married then ?"

Perplexed, his brows furrowed and he patted her back. "You too, Edith, you too. Uh, no, I never got your letter I only found about you're getting married through Uncle Carter."

She moved back, her grey-eyes gleaming with curiosity, "How was my father ? Was he well without me ?"

"Uncle Carter was doing as good as could be expected. He's still grieving of course, but he's a lot better than he was and he misses you."

"Tell him that I miss him too. Now, Rick you simply must meet Thomas." Excitedly, Edith turned to say, "Husband come meet my cousin."

Just the way that Thomas sauntered into the room made him want to punch the man. Thomas's face might've been more innocent than dour, but there was still an air of arrogance about him. "Edith has told me much about you, Mr. O'Connell."

"Yeah, and I hardly know anything about you...Thomas."

Outrage flashed across the dark-haired aristocrat's pale features. Rather surprisingly, it was Jonathan who stood up for him, "Icks nay on the 'omas-say. Ahem, please accept my apologies on behalf of my future brother-in-law, Sir Thomas. Rick is obviously not used to dealing with aristocracy. Say, did you know that Evey and I are fourteenth cousins removed from the Duke of York ?" 

That seemed to distract Thomas however briefly, "Hmm, if only everyone could be so lucky." The man wandered over to stand beside Jonathan. "You would not happen to be the same Jonathan Carnahan as the one I saw in Carlisle with Her Ladyship would you ? The one who pilfered the Lady Carlisle's heirloom pearls from the 17 century."

Jonathan fidgeted slightly, "Ah, that was an honest mistake I assure you. Soon as I realized what an awful had happened I sent them back in the post."

"Surely there must've been an accident then as she never received them."

"Perhaps I might have the honour of your conveying my sincerest apologies to Her Ladyship ?"

While Jonathan and Thomas talked, Edith and Evey had started talking too about his and Evey's wedding preparations before Lucille walked in with the tea. As soon as he tried to pass on his cup Evey elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Jonathan took the wing back chair beside Evey as the Sharpes and Edith took the couch.

A grimace crossed his face as he sipped the too watery drink, he'd have rather had coffee any day of the week. Rick glanced up at Edith to ask, "So, how's Camborland treating you ?"

Evey, Jonathan, Lucille and Thomas all stated, "Cumberland !"  

Edith covered her mouth with her hand, but couldn't stifle her fit of giggles. "Oh, it is treating me quite nicely. Especially, old Mr. Cornish who runs the General Store and Herr Himmler who runs the Post-office. Thomas, when we've finished tea might I take them to the guest wing ?"

Thomas shared a look with Lucille some unsaid conversation passing between them. "Are you sure that you can handle it, Edith ? What with the many hallways and wings ? You did get lost just last week did you not ?"

Thomas's subtly condescending tone rubbed him the wrong way. "My cousin is not going to get us lost in your stupid house, we'll be fine."

Lucille sipped at her tea before replying to him, "In Thomas' and I's Father's time twenty people alone died here from getting lost in the hallways, they wandered for days and never found their way back. We would rather that not happen to yourselves, but if Edith insists then I suppose that it is on her head."

Evey gasped, "Oh my, how horrible ! Still perhaps if Edith is able to recite the route from memory ?"

Now, it was his turn to be smug as Edith recited it perfectly. When they finished tea, he, Evey, Edith and Jonathan set off for the guest wing. 


	2. Stresses

Edith breathed deeply as she entered the guest wing and turned to the others. "You must know something, such as they did barely Thomas and Lucille do all the time. The times when I have heard inexplicable things in day and night when I told them...they claimed me mad. They said it was merely the stress of Mother's dying and my life changing so much by marrying Thomas and moving here. I-I think that they are wrong, yet I love Thomas and do not truly want to doubt him. I don't know what to do, Rick, so I am glad indeed that fate brought you here today."

Rick's eyebrows furrowed, yet he laughed, "I knew there was something I didn't like about him, I knew it. So, what sort of things are you hearing ?"

As Rick didn't know about her ability to see ghosts, it was hard to decide what to tell them. Ultimately, she decided to go with the truth. "Things fall off of shelves when they should not, the water turns on before I even come close to touching it and I-I see things that others claim do not exist."

Evey ran a hand through her hair, "Well, after seeing a mummy come back to life 3000 years after being eaten alive, I'll say that ghosts are now one of the easier things to accept."

Jonathan tapped his thigh and shifted nervously, "You know I'd rather not be dealing with ghosts after we just finished dealing with a murderous mummy."

Just as much as Alan, she knew that she could always count on Rick to help her. He proved it by saying, "We'll find out why they're still here and how to get rid of them, I'm not leaving you here with ghosts and crazy people."

Evey murmured, "We'll have to find the library, get some information on the house, the Sharpe family, anything we can find, really."

Edith nodded to herself before saying, "After dinner Thomas and Lucille like to have a few hours to themselves, we should be able to slip away to the library then. Thomas has to go get more groceries since you three showed up so suddenly."

Jonathan scratched at his hair, "Why doesn't he just send a servant to get it ?"

It was odd to remember that they didn't know as much about Thomas and Lucille as she'd learned lately. "The Sharpes haven't had servants since Thomas and Lucille were five years old, when their father's new clay mine failed and they went nearly broke. All their lives they've had to do everything by themselves, except for some help when they were very young from the townspeople. Thomas might be arrogant at times, but I think it is only because everyone treated him like a man after his parents died instead of the child he was."

Rick stomped over to open one of the doors, "It doesn't excuse his talking down to you, you might be his wife, but you're not an animal. I doubt he talks to his sister like that."

Unconsciously, she played with the right cuff of her silver and jade wasp backed dress. "No, but I would have gotten lost myself a few times were it not for Lucille. She likes me not, however, she tolerates me for Thomas's sake."

The door that Rick had opened slammed shut and the door knobs on the left side of the hall rattled violently. Jonathan jumped behind Evey muttering, "Easy ghosties, w-we're not here to hurt you. We really don't want you to hurt us either, so maybe we can just, uh...get along, please ?"

Evey shook Jonathan off, "If they wanted to hurt us they would have, we can leave them be until we get to the library. Maybe they can even help us find what we need. Shall we play the good guests, get our things and freshen up for dinner ?"

Glad to finally be able to get it out of her head, she stated, "We are having...uh, I think it is bangers and mash for dinner. I don't think it should take that long as Lucille had already started on it. Dinner should be ready in an hour, just enough time to get ready before we go to the dinning hall." 

She helped Evey take her trunk up to the second floor then helped her pick out a dark brown dress with beige lace and a golden necklace. Finally, she warily traversed the halls to her and Thomas's bedroom to do her own freshening up in their powder room.


	3. Dinner

Thomas put the paper bag on the table, it had once again started to rain outside, so everything was slightly dampened. His sister preferred to have the light of candelabra in the kitchen, opposed to that from his little hydro-electricity invention. Firelight gleamed off the stove as Lucille walked to him reaching to tilt his chin down so she could kiss him. He nipped her bottom lip, soothing it with his tongue as her lips parted. Were Lucille any other woman he never would have let her deepen the kiss. Such as it was, he allowed it, tongue twining with tongue in familiar dance.

A pale hand slid upward to cup his cheek as Lucille whispered, "You should shave Thomas, you need'st not look like a ruffian before dinner."

He grinned then teased gently, "Well then as it is not required doing, I should make a very handsome ruffian I hope."

Those gorgeous, dove-grey eyes opened slowly, "Be that as it may, my left foot you will."

"Is that a, "Yes." then ? I only ask because you have quite a handsome left foot."

It was rare since Edith had come to live with them that Lucille laughed, but now she did and blushed greatly too. "Thomas ! Ssh, one of our nosy Americans may be skulking about. The mud minded cretins think all the world is their business after all. I'll still not forgive them for killing Grandfather Fredrick."

Grandfather Fredrick was one of few long suffering points of contention between them. "It was a war, dear sister, Grandfather was merely doing his duty for King and country like near all the Sharpe men have."

Lucille suddenly wrapped both arms around him tightly. "You cannot do such to me, not when you are all that I have of worth."

Not more gentle than the rain which had fallen on him he brushed soft kisses over her temples. Her hair still smelled of lavender oils from this morning when she'd washed it. The scent was of course a calming one and he was grateful as the thought of going to war truly terrified him. "Had I to go, reluctant though it would be, I would go if it meant I was keeping you safe. Perhaps I would finally do more to earn the title of Sir than simply be born to it." Slowly, he brushed an errant strand of hair from her face. Solemn as anything, he said, "I love you, Lucille."

Her lips trembled while she blinked up at him, "I-I love you too, Thomas."

"Ever I should hope, dearest darling. Now, perhaps I should go freshen up and you return to dinner." Cheek had him asking, "After all, we don't want another incident like that of the burnt grouse do we ?"

In mock offense, she turned up her nose, "It was, but once and you ate it still !"

"And it taste like burnt wood chips all the while, I assure you."

Not surprisingly, Lucille smacked him lightly and laughingly chided. "Away with you, you bloody rogue, away !"

He backed away, bowed, "Mi'lady's wish is my command." then left her. Mere minutes later, he arrived at the double doors to his rooms. The left hand door opened revealing Edith in an early 18th century sapphire bustle dress that was studded with tiny diamonds. With Edith's hair now up in numerous curls it rather reminded him of their waltzing at the ball. Unconsciously, he smiled the slightest bit and kissed her hand, "Radiance from Heaven shall't I know thy name ?"

Edith blushed, "Are you always such a charmer, Thomas ?"

Queer as it was, dangerous as it was, considering certain circumstances, he liked her asking such questions. "I should like to think so, yes." 

Quite quickly, nay, nervously, she moved aside so that he could enter the airy, marble-tiled and beige-walled rooms. After he had washed up, shaved, put on a dry grey-silk waist coat and replaced his pocket watch, he made his way down to the dining hall.


	4. Sirs 'n insults

Evey washed down a piece of sausage with some wine as she looked about the drab and weathered, but warmly lit dinning hall. Sat at the head of the table was Thomas, on his right was Lucille, his left Edith. Jonathan sat next to Lucille and Rick was beside Edith. She put her crystal wine glass down as lightning flashed through a side window. Briefly, she dabbed her mouth with a handkerchief then said, "Might I ask a favour of you, Sir Thomas ?"

The pale-skinned man looked up, "If I am able, Ms. Carnahan."

"Well, you see as Rick was driving us through Harding Poole I was looking for a library and was quite unable to find one. I'm a librarian, you understand, and I was hoping that you would be gracious enough to open your library to me. For all that we know there could be hidden, or perhaps even lost, treasures nestled amongst its most ancient shelves." It was the end of the last sentence she saw that truly persuaded him, the man was proud of his heritage alright.

"I see no reason to say otherwise. Besides myself, Lucille and, most recently, Edith not many have seen the splendour of the Sharpe library in recent years." 

Glad that she would not have to feel terrible because of sneaking into the library, she thanked Thomas. Jonathan who continued to munch on a sausage broke in, "Sister, don't tell me you're going to spend all night reading...yet, again."

"I certainly see nothing wrong with it. Since you have asked such, I must ask yourself why you continue to ask after heirlooms that people will not sell...yet, again."

Rick pushed his empty plate and, likely as anything, to annoy the aristocrats put his elbows on the table. "So, why exactly doesn't Harding Poole have its own library ? Surely your family was wealthy enough in the past to have made such a relatively small donation to the townspeople."

Edith glanced down the table to share an exasperated look with her. If Rick kept annoying Thomas it was likely they were going to find themselves thrown out before they even got to the library. 

With a reproving look, Thomas primly folded his hands on his lap before he answered. "Here in Harding Poole up until the 18th century only the privileged had the time to learn to read. My great-great grandfather, Sir Albert Sharpe, did not consider it an important matter, nor did it truly become a matter until a few short years ago when Morning Vale opened their library. I have not the years necessary to petition His Lordship for the abundance of funds, materials, and workers that would be necessary for such a project."

"Huh, I don't see why not you're only in your what...mid-twenties, maybe ?"

Indignantly, Thomas replied, "I am in my mid-thirties if you absolutely must know, Mr. O'Connell." 

"You claim you don't have time, so why not just open your precious library to the public if you want people to see its, "Splendour." so badly."

"To have more people either die in the hallways and try to scuff up or steal our heirlooms ? I think not. It is easy to see that Edith got the lion's share of intelligence from your shared blood and appearance as she does not look like an owl carcass that was left to rot for three days."

Evey couldn't help the chuckle that left her, even as she tried smothering it in her handkerchief. 

Rick's response was not that great, but it was rather hilarious. "Well...well, you look like a drowned skunk that was pissed on to death by a...a mangy coyote."

Thomas traded faintly amused looks with Lucille. "You tried at least. I'll not waste your time by telling you that your mother was likely comparable in looks to a beached Sperm Whale then."

Edith shook her head and said in flat tone, "Rick, Thomas, enough. Here I thought you two were supposed to be gentlemen or civilized at the very least."

Rick, "Don't blame me, he started it !" 

Simultaneously, Thomas replied, "I was a mite improper, yes, but I still do not deserve comparison to a skunk, much less one so foul as that."

With insults traded, everyone finished the rest of dinner in silence before departing from the polished, dark-wood table. Herself, Jonathan, Rick and Edith for the library down the hall and Thomas and Lucille to...wherever they were going. As they were entering the library, Jonathan got his hand caught between the thick doors and proceeded to hop around while hissing swears. To add insult and further injury, one of the ghosts decided to hurl a heavy, black-leather bound book at Jonathan's face.

"Well, thank you for distracting me from my hand, Mr. Ghost, that was very kind of you."

Edith corrected, "Actually, Jonathan, that ghost is a woman."

"So, that makes it somehow better ? My getting beat up by a ghost wasn't bad enough, no, it has to be a female ghost. I mean it, truly, thank you, mi'lady."

A shudder went down her spine when a rasping whisper filled the library, "Your welcome."

In an attempt to somewhat distract herself, she asked in quavering voice, "Do you think that you could help us find some information on the Sharpes, the house ?"

"We-e will consider i-it." Not even a few minutes passed before another black leather-bound book came floating towards them. "The Old One knows not that we are here."

She shared the blond woman's confusion as Edith stepped forward to take the book. "The Old One ? None of you have ever mention that before."

"Ssh, y-you know not of what you sp-eak."

Rick wandered over to browse a nearby shelf, "The Old One, yeah, that guy sounds all sunshine and daisies, doesn't he ?"

Evey followed Rick to pull out a smaller brown leather tome. The title on the inside cover page was, "A Historie of Allerdale Hall." Intrigued, she started reading only to realize that it was just a compendium of building materials assembled by Sir Maximus Charles Sharpe, first Baronet of Harding Poole. Thus started the long, and quite tedious, search for information. 


	5. Leisure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hereto you are aware that contained within is a scene of semi-explicit sexual content. Should one not wish to read such then one might skip the middle of the chapter and proceed straight to the end.

Hidden away in their first home of Allerdale Hall's attic, Lucille hummed and leisurely accepted another chocolate from Thomas. It melted on her tongue as she brushed a hand over Thomas's thigh. They lay on her old cot while above and across from them the stained-glass window flickered with beauteous light as more lightning, accompanied by the last's thunder, flashed overhead. Her brother had picked up the package of bitter chocolates as a consolation gift for their guests' appearance, which had subsequently derailed their former plans for the night.

Thomas would be frowning slightly as he said, "Sister, what are we going to do about that blasted O'Connell and the Carnahans ? We cannot kill Edith with them hovering over our shoulders."

She reached over to pick up an apple danish to present to him. "If I were to distract O'Connell and the others you could take her for a moonlit horseback ride. When she is far enough away that her screams cannot be heard, kill her, I care not how - slit her throat, find one of Grandfather's flintlocks and shoot her, or simply bash her skull in." It confused her when he tensed and flinched. "Do not tell me that you have gone soft because of that little bint. You've barely known her for five months."

He took his time leaning over to take a bite of the pastry and eat it. "I've not, not consciously, at least...it is just...becoming harder to separate myself from what I have to do. The bleeding tart is so different from everyone we have ever known, making me like her should not be possible. It is not right at'll !"

After she'd put the pastry down she rolled over to look at him. Censure made her frown, of course, the idiotic chit would be the one to finally get through Thomas's armour, try to turn him away from her. Blasted Americans, first one killed Grandfather and now another was stealing her love, oh how she hated them. Sternly, she answered, "It is all the more reason to get rid of her first, little brother. After all, would you rather deal with Edith, O'Connell and the Carnahans or the Old One ?" While she did not believe in Thomas's stories of ghosts and his Old One if it made him feel better about their murdering the mores the merrier. 

Thomas sighed then scratched at his neck, "I would much rather deal with buffoon O'Connell and the others they at least are only human. But, enough of this, we came up here to relax did we not ?"

Gladly, she pushed herself up, the chemise rucking itself about her thighs. With how flimsy the white silk and lace had become from age, it had formerly belonged to Great-great Grandmother Madeline, the room was not much colder as she pulled it over her head to drop on the floor. Her hair reached the tops of her shoulders as she feathered it for Thomas to admire. That wondering look that crossed his face whenever he saw her unclothed was ever gratifying.

A soft, "Lucille, were I not already damned a thousand times, I would be once more." as Thomas nuzzled and licked between her breasts. Rather luckily for her, her brother had always preferred those who were small in their endowments. That preference being even before their acquaintance Hennessy asphyxiated himself via a far heavier endowed prostitute.    

She wrapped her arms around his neck before he drew her to him. Warm hands slid down her back and one hand moved slowly to rest on her inner thigh, so very damnably close to her sex. Her breath caught and her pulse focused in her thighs while a pulsing ache settled between her legs. "Thomas, O good God, please."

It at least elicited a measure of laughter, "God ? My my, but we are getting blasphemous aren't we, Lucille ?"

Lucille groaned, burying her face against his shoulder. The steady rise and fall of his chest was reassuring in her sexually induced stupor. "I don't care, fuck me, but I don't."

That hand caressed her thigh and Thomas said, "I think I saw a poor little puss disappear in your hair. Should I find her for you ?"

She made the mistake of glancing up, to burst out laughing because he was as serious as if he was the embodiment of propriety itself. Giggles stemmed, she agreed, "Yes, oh, yes, and she has the most irritating itch as well. Perhaps you might be good enough to relieve poor puss ?" Unconsciously, she had started rutting against him wishing that he would get on with it.

"I might, yes."

Near eternity of frustration of gentle rubbing and prodding later, a surprised mewl left her lips as he finally inserted a finger. She squirmed trying to get more comfortable and glared when he started teasing her again with his index finger. Still with the pleasure it wasn't quite unbearable, though the motion was better with two fingers as the warmth built more. For a while a series of gasps, mewls and moans were the only sounds she made, the only thing she heard besides Thomas's own roughening breath and far off thunder. 

Quite suddenly, Thomas growled, "Sister, look at me."

It was hard to keep her eyes open because she wanted to feel him instead, but she did as bidden and raised her head. Thomas's already dark eyes darkened even further with desire as she met them. As if his gaze had hit some invisible trigger in her body, her sex clenched around his fingers and soft shudders wracked her body. Languid warmth washed through her like she'd lain in a patch of sunlight after a long day. 

In turn, he moaned, "Luce." and slumped against the bed to lick his fingers clean. When she and Thomas were too young to pronounce her full name they had instead shortened it to Luce, it had stayed on as a rarely used nickname. Over fifteen years had passed since he'd last called her that. They both cleaned up with the nearby wash basin and she redressed in her chemise and dark-silver bustle, Thomas in a clean pair of trousers and shirt. 

Absently, she glanced toward the close corner of the attic to see something she hadn't in a very long time. Hardly could she believe her eyes as she walked to pick it up. "Mr. White-nose ? Thomas, come look at this. It's Mr. White-nose !" Mr. White-nose was the horse that Father had carved for them in infancy. The majority of the horse was mahogany and a piece of delicately carved ivory was for his nose, thus leading to the name. Unfortunately, Mr. White-nose's nose was now far more yellow than white.

Thomas padded over to pluck Mr. White-nose from her grip. "Ah, so it is, love, so it is. By Jove, it's been over twenty years since I saw him !"

How could she not be happy when his eyes were alight with near childish glee as he neighed and spun around and around in abandon. When she got dizzy from watching him she looked over the edge of Thomas's old cot. Here yet again was another childhood thing, this thing being Mr. Terra the Taxidermy Cat. Mr. Terra was a little worse for wear - he was missing the onyx and gold marble that was his right-eye. 

Lucille raised her eyebrows, stating, "Thomas, I figured out why we've a drawer full of marbles in the kitchen."

"Oh, why's this ? Hmm, well, we'll have to correct it right away then. Come now, Lucille, come." Thomas linked arms with her and both full of unusual gaiety they skipped out of the attic.  


	6. Talent

Jonathan had really had enough of the whole looking through books thing fifteen minutes ago, but only gone out to the second floor hallway five minutes ago. So, there he was just minding his own business when Thomas and Lucille whirled into sight. Before Jonathan could think he asked, "Is that, ahem, is that a taxidermy tabby cat, Lady Lucille ?" He couldn't keep the memories of cousin Rupert throwing that dead cat in his face from swarming up again.

Lucille smiled at him and stroked the cat's flea-bitten ears, "Why, yes, he is. This is Mr. Terra, he was Grandfather Fredrick's cat. Just look at him the poor thing lost an eye."

Resisting the urge to back away, he nodded, "Oh, yes, uh, quite the poor thing, indeed." Desperate to talk something more normal, he turned to Thomas. "Say, my good Sir, you wouldn't be willing to part with that magnificent unicorn statue that's hidden away in the library would you ?"

There was no slight scowl or anything on Thomas's face as he said, "No, you might have that Short-eared Owl instead." In just as pleasant and gentle a tone as you please the aristocrat continued, "Should you somehow steal the unicorn as you did the Lady Carlisle's pearls know that I will slice you into tiny pieces starting with your bollocks."

Rick was right, these people really were honest to God mad in some ways. Even for the whole stiff upper lip-thing his answer was ridiculously calm, "Eh, there'll be no need for that, I assure you."

"There best not be, Mr. Carnahan." As if Thomas and Lucille had not just theoretically threatened to murder him the two turned and continued on their merry way.

With an unconscious sweat on his brow and his pulse thumping painfully in his neck, Jonathan reached back to fumble one of the doors open. A yelp left him as he misjudged the door's surprisingly light swing and fell heavily on the gigantic Persian rug. First, richly carved vaulted ceilings of, of course, dark walnut met his eyes, then Evey stood over him.

A quizzical look crossed his sister's face, "Are you quite all right, Jonathan ? There's no reason to look so frightened."

Some deep breaths later, he gasped, "I have now seen the most terrific sight in the world."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, come now, Aunt Carol is all the way down in London. What could be worse than her ?" 

"Lucille...l-I don't know can you even call it a smile ? Indescribable in a mostly bad sort, it was like someone bred a swan with a hyena." 

Rick strode over to pull him up, "You have a talent for finding crazy people don't you ?"

Before he could respond Edith called, "I think I found something !"

He, Rick and Evey all nearly stampeded over the carpet crossing the thirty foot library to swarm around a shadowed marble pedestal. Edith had a ratty, half-mouldy, water-stained book open.

The blond woman read the page out, "On this day, Wednesday, All Hallows' Eve, in the year of Our Lord, 1635, Sir Maximus turned from God. It is reported by the scullery maid Anita that queer things have started happening. The others say that in the village's farthest pens animals scream in their death throes and inexplicable whispers heard in the emptiest of Allerdale Hall's great corridors. Sir Maximus the Mad I hear him called now in the most hushed of whispers. The villagers fear him now wherein not three hours ago they adored him utterly. Most other servants have fled, but not I, not Theodore Greene, ever I have stood beside my master and I will not abandon him now. By God, I swear that I will not or may my soul be forfeit on Judgement Day before Him."

Into the deathly, and definitely disturbed, silence Jonathan muttered, "Well, you certainly can't fault the man's dedication."

Evey glanced around at them all, fear was in her eyes and if he'd not been scared himself he would've comforted her. "If Sir Maximus was...if he was summoning demons we can't fight those. W-we would need to find a priest or some such. Edith, do you know the local priest ?" 

Edith smoothed her dress before saying, "Yes, Pastor Mulroney is good a man as can be found. I went to see him when I first arrived in Harding Poole. I just don't know what I would tell Thomas that he would let me go. That man he has some odd disdain for the church, yet refuses to tell me what grieves him of it."

As Evey and Rick had no seeming answers, he came up with one. "You could just go crying to Thomas about not being over Mumsy. I mean, he may have threatened me if I stole the unicorn statue, but he must have some heart."

"I-I don't know if I can do such. I am both reluctant and know that it would be likely useless as he knows when people lie to him."

Rick took the book from Edith to do his own skimming then said, "He claims he love you, right ?"

"I know that he loves me !"

"Then even if he suspects it he should be blind enough to think it's possibly real and let you go anyway."

Edith bit her lip and rubbed her right palm, "Please, excuse me, I need time to think on this."

They watched her leave the library then he startled as the raspy ghost said, "She will not, she is not the kind." right into his ear. 

"Argh, would you stop doing that ?" While he was trying to both block and scrub his ears, Rick started flapping Greene's journal around.

"Oh, go away you old hag, we don't need you !"

He sighed and wondered how bad his luck had to be that he got dragged from Egypt to America and finally back to good old England for this. Surely, it must've been pretty bad or he would've just stayed in England when Evey got transferred to that desert wasteland. What he wouldn't have given to go home, no more mummies, no more ghosts, and just relax in the peace and quiet. Of course, just because he wished for it, he knew it wouldn't happen.  


	7. Church

Edith stopped in the doorway of her and Thomas's powder room. Thomas looked so very innocent with his naturally wavy hair still tangled from sleep, just by that indicator he'd started his routine not ten minutes ago. God alone knew how hard her intestines trembled while her palms were slick with sweat and the thought of what she would say made her tears real. How could her Thomas be related to horrid Sir Maximus when he looked so normal dabbing his face with a wash cloth ? It seemed impossible, except it was because there were hundreds of years between them. The more cynical part of her mind whispered that this betrayal would make a good scene in one of her books, everything since she'd first met him, really.

Her eyes misted when she wondered, "T-Thomas ?" All she saw was a mostly pale blur as he crossed the small space between them and warm fingers suddenly cupped her chin.

Thomas's eyes darted over her face as he asked softly, "What happened to you, Edith ?"

Even when she blinked the tears away, she barely managed to look at him such was her guilt. "I had the most horrible nightmare. We were at Mother's funeral, s-she broke out of the coffin a-and tried to tear us to pieces. I know were she alive she would never do such, but...she tore your throat out, the blood it was everywhere, and i-it felt so real. Oh Thomas, I thought you were dead !"

He stroked her chin and smiled slightly, "It should relieve you then to know that I am nothing of the sort. Who was that it put such foolish ideas in your head ? Was it O'Connell ? That thieving Carnahan ? Who, love ?"

Unconsciously, she balled her fists, "It was none other than myself, not Rick or Jonathan. Merely because society says that only men can affect my mind does not mean that I cannot have thoughts of my own ! When I came here I visited Pastor Mulroney and I thought that I had dealt with it. Quite obviously, I have not."

At the mention of Mulroney a frown crossed Thomas's face. "If visiting that pompous arse did not work before what makes you think it will this time ?" 

"You're certainly one to talk of being pompous, Sir Thomas Sharpe. What exactly do you have against the Pastor to begrudge him so ?"

"My business with him is exactly that, my business. It is not a thing to concern yourself of."

There it was that haughty tone again, this time it was too much. She slapped him, spun on her heel, and exited their bedroom while rubbing at her eyes. Good God, but society was idiotic. How was it not her business when it affected her relationship with Thomas so ? Her hand only realized it was sore when she passed Lucille on the second floor landing. When she stopped to rub her hand thoughts started clamouring in her head.

The most prominent ? Sometimes Thomas was just so...so, for all her normal eloquence she currently lacked a word to describe him. It was their different upbringings surely - she, the daughter of a middle-class working man, loved of her parents and friends, who had worked all her life for everything, while he was high-class, the son of dead aristocrats and loved only by his sister, who'd hardly worked for anything tangible. There were some things that he simply would not be able to understand and concern of one's Mother's soul was one of them. She would simply go to the church anyway. Perhaps Pastor Mulroney would be kind enough to explain her husband's reluctance to talk of him with her.

Guilt settled on her shoulders as she wondered if Thomas had gone to Mulroney about Allerdale Hall's ghosts and gotten turned away. If it were that she could have seen his reluctance to entertain the pastor, but to deny her a visitation to the church because of it ? No, she could not see him doing that. It must've been something else. Maybe he would have considered allowing her if he'd known the real reason why she wanted to go.   

Jonathan wandered up the stairs from the first floor, "So, how did convincing Thomas go ?"

"I feel horrible about lying, but he was also being hypocritical about Pastor Mulroney and I slapped him and I...don't feel very guilty about it."

The brown-haired Englishman rubbed at his neck, "Well, you're doing it for the right reasons at least. Did you want me to go with you to the church ?"

"No, Jonathan, in America I can walk by myself without an escort and damn what Thomas, and propriety, says, I should be able to here as well."

The man stepped forward and held his hands out. "I know you don't feel like listening to Thomas at the moment and Harding Poole is very small compared to New York, but there are still bad people here and I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Nice as it is for you to offer I don't think it will be a problem. You forget that I can defend myself with a knife and Herr Himmler and Mr. Cornish would stop anything untoward that I could not stop myself. If that did not work, much as I dislike being Thomas's property he is one of the most powerful men in the area. Even if they did not care for him personally, near everyone respects him because of how the Sharpe family initially improved Harding Poole by giving them longer lasting jobs and improving the economy. For some reason I'll never understand, you English love not only your royalty, but your aristocrats too."

Jonathan sighed, "If you're anything like Evey, it won't matter what anyone says, you'll do it anyways. I'll keep an eye out for you by the gates."

Gleefully, she leaned up to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Jonathan, I appreciate this, I truly do." As she did she noticed that he wore the same warm woodsy type of cologne that Thomas did. Though she couldn't name it, she couldn't help wondering if it were sold solely in England because there was an odd hint of flowers to it. Father's cologne had never had anything even remotely flowery about it. Queerly enough, it'd been Thomas's cologne that'd first drawn her to him, secondly, if she were honest it'd been his looks and, thirdly, his accent. Well, it wasn't his real accent, she had only heard that once, but it was a type of English accent anyway. 

That one time she had heard Thomas's actual accent she'd loved it and asked why he didn't use it all the time. Thomas had responded that, "To others the Cumbria dialect is rough-shod, uncouth...like if I were one of your, ah, hillbillies I believe it is. It doesn't sound nearly as sophisticated as a generalized one and when one is Baronet one is accustomed to a certain amount of respect. Those who grew up here in Harding Poole would not notice, but if I were in London to meet the other Baronets I would be more likely to be laughed out of the hall than taken seriously." 

Poor Thomas, he always thought he had to have someone's respect, preferably everyone's, for everything to be right in the world. She shook her thoughts off then walked around Jonathan and down the stairs into the entrance hall. Distantly, she realized that she'd forgotten her hat in her and Thomas's rooms then pushed the matter away. Forty minutes later, she was regretting the decision to walk to Harding Poole instead of borrowing Styx the cart horse to ride. By God, but Crimson Peak's drive was ridiculously long. A further hour and-a-half passed before she finally plodded into the First Church of Harding Poole.

The First Church of Harding Poole was small and of Gothic design. What with its being made at the same time as Allerdale Hall it also had the same blue-brick, except that the church eves and roof were covered in ancient gargoyles instead of being bare. The pews were surprisingly of light oak instead of dark walnut as she sat down in the back row. Pastor Mulroney when he finally appeared was, as she'd first met him, still balding, but his hair had turned white and his skin was covered in what seemed more chicken pox marks.

Pastor Mulroney greeted her with, "Hello, mi'lady, ah, I mean, Edith. What might I do for you ? What are you doing here without Thomas ?"

Once again, the guilt came forward again and she stared at the stone beneath her feet. "Thomas and I had a fight...it was about you actually."

Mulroney's brows furrowed over his keen, dark-green eyes, "Me ? Was it about my helping you with your mother ?"

"Partially, but mostly it ended up being about why he distrusts you so much. It is not fair to ask, but I know that you don't have the same limitations as a Catholic Father, so could you tell me about it ?"

Mulroney's wrinkled hands folded together, "I may not have official limits like the Catholics do, but I know that I would feel disappointed in myself for the telling. What I can is this: When he was younger, Sir Thomas confided in me. Now, is there something that I may actually help you with ?"

Slowly, she raised her head and worried her lip, "This is going to sound absolutely mad, truly insane, but there are ghosts in the mansion and possibly demons too. Can you do anything, do you know anyone who could help us ?"

Mulroney shifted his weight for a moment, "Not personally, no. However, Father Hennessy over in Morning Vale may be able to help you. I can send my son, Harold, to see if the Father is willing. Humph, I remember when the Sir and Lady were still alive, Harold, Thomas, and Lucille used to play together often, so much was I at the mansion. As you have just arrived here you cannot see all the changes that have happened. When they were all together the Sharpes used to be not only a handsome family, but a happy one. Now, they are handsome, but subdued, it is only Thomas who goes out much and Lucille hardly looks happy when she accompanies him. The whole town shifted in its attitudes when their parents died and they did too. Lucille used to run around with the boys and cared not a wit for the dirt that got on her dress. Near soon as her parents died she stopped playing, said her dress got too dirty she did, then she started staying inside all the time. Thomas still played with Harold for a while after, but sometimes without warning he would spurn Harold to stay with Lucille and eventually he stopped playing too. Everyone who lived here changed even if they did not realize it themselves."

Mr. Cornish and Herr Himmler had told her similar things, yet it had for some reason never fully struck her until now. Perhaps it was the way that Pastor Mulroney's eyes had dulled over the conversation, the way his wrinkles and crows feet deepened as he sighed heavily and scrubbed at his forehead.

She reached out to pat his hand, "I'm sorry, they do seem so very different now compared to then. I know he doesn't know me, but tell Harold, "Hello." and, "Thank you." for me regardless of how his conversation with Father Hennessy goes."

The pastor nodded, "I will. I simply wish that I could talk to Thomas once."

Of course it wasn't her place to offer it, but she felt obligated to, "If Father Hennessy agrees to go to Allerdale Hall you could come with as well."

"Perhaps, either way, I will not expect to stay long if I do."

The church's left-side door opened and Rick peeked around it. "Edith ?"

"Yes, Rick ?"

"Lucille and Evey were fighting over something called, uh, Black Pudding."

Black Pudding ? Why ever would they fight over that ? It was absurd. When she had excused herself from the pastor and gotten into the automobile with Rick she asked, "Are they really fighting over pudding ?"

The brown-haired man laughed, "Oh, you bet they are. Evey hates it because of the, "Copious and utterly disgusting amounts of fats." and wishes Lucille would make a different dessert for dinner. Lucille replied that Evey was, "Just like every other city-born tart that hates a good dessert." and refuses to make something else. I thought they were actually going to start punching each other over it. It was hilarious ! Oh, by the way, before I forget, Jonathan told me about what you did. So, congratulations on slapping your, sometimes, dick of a husband."

Rick's rather appalling attempts at differing falsettos made her laugh. It was why she had preferred Rick's company over her other cousins, it didn't matter that he was ten years older than her, he made nearly anything funny.

When she had processed his last words, she faltered, "Um...thank you ?"

Rick started the car and shifted it into gear, "Don't thank me yet, you can thank me when we get out of Kooky-land."

"Colour me surprised, you almost had it right that time."

"I know, I surprise me too. Well, back to Allerdale Hell: Home of the Kooks, then."

Edith leaned her head against the seat back. "Really, Rick ?" was the only thing she could think to say.

He gave her a little amused smile and look, "Too far ?"

"A little, yes."

Well, she supposed it was slightly more substantial than hearing that her sisters-in-law fight over pudding. Not by much, she had to admit, but it was slightly better.  


End file.
